


Hard to Explain

by Jointhebattle



Series: Painfully Oblivious Seteth Unrequited Crush Ficlets [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Author uses too many em dashes, Awkward Boners, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Ficlet, Humor, Internal Monologue, Sylvain is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 13:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20676518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jointhebattle/pseuds/Jointhebattle
Summary: Seteth is a man of reason. Obviously. Why is it that Byleth brings out these embarrassing reactions in him?Or: Seteth gets an awkward boner when Byleth says his name.





	Hard to Explain

**Author's Note:**

> Let me preface this installment by saying that I headcanon Seteth has not banged a girl in like 1000 years so

The clack of Seteth's shoes against the cobblestones created a pleasant rhythm for rearranging his scattered thoughts as he crossed the courtyard.

His work.

Why could he not focus on his work. 

"—and then I heard the professor swooped in at the last moment and took the beast down with a single—"

He glared at the pair of students chattering idly at the steps of the Cathedral. "Do you have nothing better to do than peddle gossip?" he barked, sending the children fleeing to their lectures in shame, and—inexplicably—giggles.

It was little wonder he was so distracted in recent weeks, what with all the excitement the new professor seemed to bring out in everyone around her.

A fortnight had passed since he had seen her last, and for that he could only be grateful. If only it were so easy to escape her fan club.

He made his way into the Cathedral, ignoring the bustle of monks and students and heading directly to the sanctuary of the antechamber that housed the statues of the saints.

Here, he could find solitude.

Seteth gazed at the peaceful visage of Saint Cethleann. It was not a perfect likeness, but the statue was pleasing to look upon nonetheless.

Yes. He felt the inexplicable tension in his body ease away. The frayed ends of his patience knit themselves smoothly back together. The irrational—

"Seteth."

In an instant, his nerves were shattered again; every muscle pulled taut as a bowstring.  _ Every  _ muscle. 

He was nothing short of ridiculous. That her voice speaking his name was enough to give him an erection like some kind of pubescent boy was beyond shameful.

He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for the situation in his breeches to calm down. As though he could will his body's inappropriate reaction away with nothing more than the power of his mind.

"Is everything okay?" She was speaking again, and it was not helping.

There was nothing for it. He was going to have to face her. Perhaps she would not notice; it was not as if she was likely to spend any time looking at his crotch, and his garb hid the worst of his humiliation.

"Ah, Professor," he said with false brightness as he turned to face her. His voice did not waver, thank the Goddess. "I'm afraid I was—"

But she was not alone. A smirking student stood beside her. Sylvain. 

And his smirk was directed at the less than discrete bulge in Seteth's tunic.

For a fleeting moment, Seteth wondered if his long life had finally come to an end, and the Goddess had decided to send him to hell for his sins.

For a fleeting moment, he wished it.

He was dragged back into reality with the realisation that the Professor was still speaking to him, and he had heard nothing of what she had been saying.

"I beg your pardon, Professor. What was that?"

She appeared momentarily concerned for his sanity before schooling her features back to her usual unreadable expression. "I—well—Sylvain had some questions about wyvern husbandry, and I thought maybe he would be better off asking you about it."

Sylvain. Anyone but he would be a preferable witness to this moment.

Seteth cleared his throat and forced what he hoped was an indulgent smile onto his face. "Of course." He grasped Sylvain—perhaps a little more firmly than he intended—by the shoulder and directed him towards the Cathedral. "Come, Sylvain. Let us discuss this in my office, I am certain I have some excellent books on the subject."

To his credit, the child did not complain as he was unceremoniously dragged to the privacy of Seteth's office. 

He left him at the doorway and made his way to the bookcase, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

"I have several books I can lend you if you would just—"

Sylvain cut him off with a burst of unrestrained laughter. "Seteth, you are in love with the Professor?"

"I—I beg your pardon?"

"I saw you in there, and I  _ know  _ the facts of life." He nodded knowingly at Seteth. "When your lance stands up like that, it means you're in love, right? My brother told me all about it when I was a kid."

"My—uh—my  _ lance?" _

"Y'know, your penis?" He rolled his eyes. "Do not worry, Seteth. I fall in love all the time, it soon passes. I even fell in love with the Professor when I first saw her, but I'm over that now."

"Get out." Seteth pointed at the door. "Right now. Do not speak of this again."

Sylvain shrugged before turning on his heel and leaving.

In love with her? The very idea.

Seteth's life was long. This must be some sort of late life teenage phase.

Her life would be over in the blink of an eye to him. He thought of his wife; he could not bear to go through that pain again.

Whatever bodily reaction she brought out in him was nothing more than a fleeting infatuation. He was a man of reason, and he could get over this.

**Author's Note:**

> Sylvain needs some proper sex education, right? But that's a story for another time.


End file.
